


Bright white noise

by Ischa



Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Death References, F/M, M/M, Road Trips, Sexual Content, incest (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-19
Updated: 2012-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-29 19:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Party Poison trying to find out who he wants to be. Ditching his fourteen year old brother, hooking up with dangerous women and catching rides with strangers.<br/>This is NOT a how Gerard became Party Poison fic.</p><p>
  <i>He knows that he's being a dick to her, but he feels restless and no one heard from Doctor D in weeks. It's not unusual, but Poison worries. Fuck, he thinks, he didn't worry when he was on the road and shooting at Dracs, letting Pischer fuck him and slept curled up in the backseat of her car. He misses the smell of the desert. This here isn't the desert. This is domesticated desert. It's not the same as being out there in the zones that could kill you just because you dared to step on the sand.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bright white noise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akamine_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/gifts).



**Title:** Bright white noise  
 **Pairing:** Party Poison/Pischer (OFC), Party Poison/Black Card (Pete), brief Party Poison/Chibi  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Summary:** Young Party Poison trying to find out who he wants to be. Ditching his fourteen year old brother, hooking up with dangerous women and catching rides with strangers.  
This is NOT a how Gerard became Party Poison fic.  
 _He knows that he's being a dick to her, but he feels restless and no one heard from Doctor D in weeks. It's not unusual, but Poison worries. Fuck, he thinks, he didn't worry when he was on the road and shooting at Dracs, letting Pischer fuck him and slept curled up in the backseat of her car. He misses the smell of the desert. This here isn't the desert. This is domesticated desert. It's not the same as being out there in the zones that could kill you just because you dared to step on the sand._  
 **Warning(s):** slight d/s tones, violence and mentions of the death of relatives, (slight incest undertones – warning just in case), sex  
 **Author’s Notes:** This is the story that only three people like and I am stupidly proud of. For akamine_chan.  
 **Word Count:** 12.430  
 **Beta:** stones_at_moons  
 **Disclaimer:** Don’t know, don’t own, not real

\---

 **~1~**  
Poison shakes his wet hear out; droplets of pink water flying everywhere and leaving spots on the cracked tiles. He opens his eyes and stares at his reflection. Not bad, not super good, a bit spotty in places, but okay. He's sure he'll get better with time or he’ll make Kid do it. He turns his head to one side and then the other. It'll look softer and lighter once it's dry, he knows, but it'll do. This is more him. This is more him than he could ever have imagined.

“Looks okay,” Kid says, exhaling smoke. He's leaning in the door to the bathroom looking much older than fourteen. He's grown and grown up. Poison stomps on the urge to close his eyes. His gaze shifts from his brother to the mirror. His own reflection looks alien to him.

“It'll look better with time.”

“You plan on sticking with that?”

“Not if I can find a darker shade of it or red.”

Kid inhales deeply and hands over the cigarette. Poison has to take a few steps, meet Kid halfway to get it, but it's something Kid can get away with. Poison is only eighteen, but no one ever fucks with him. Except Kid that is, but Kid, well, Kid has all kinds of special rights.

“I'm sure you can steal it somewhere,” Kid answers.

Poison exhales smoke and looks at his brother. He tries to find the child that was there only a year ago. Sometimes he thinks he can see glimpses of that kid, but on other days it's like this isn't the same person he grew up with.

“Stop it,” Kid says sharply.

“What?”

Kid rolls his eyes. “I know you. I've known you all my live and I know what you're doing.”

“What?”

“You won't find whatever you're looking for.”

“ _Whoever_ ,” Poison corrects before he can catch himself. Fuck, Kid has just this way of knowing how to get in his head and under his skin.

Kid grins. “He's dead.”

“Sometimes I can see him,” Poison answers.

Kid looks annoyed as fuck for a second before his features smooth over and Poison is staring at a blank mask. He takes a drag of his smoke and throws the butt into the sink.

“The car is ready,” Kid says.

Poison nods.

~+~  
Poison has no idea why they waited a whole year to leave anyway. It's not like there was anything there left. Maybe it was because Poison was on a fucking bender from hell and couldn't have walked a steady line for a few minutes, so driving was out of the picture and Kid couldn't drive a year ago. Poison has to ask who taught him some time. Not now.

Kid leaves the house behind in a cloud of orange dust and doesn't look back. Poison risks a glance. It will fall apart without them caring for it.

“Let it go,” Kid says. His voice is expressionless and it gets on Poison's nerves, but he only nods. He knows Kid's right. He has to leave the past behind and concentrate on the future. Whatever that means. Could be only the next five minutes or the next ten years. Could be until the gas runs out.

~+~  
He's half asleep as Kid stops the car with a sharp move. Poison curses, rubs his cheek and looks at his brother.

“What the fuck?”

“We need gas and that there is a gas-station,” Kid answers.

Poison follows his finger. Yeah, looks abandoned enough. Doesn't mean anything, though. “You're staying here and I'm going to check it out,” he says getting out of the Am. It's getting dark and the air is cool. He wishes the jacket was near by and not in the fucking trunk with the rest of their stuff. Not that it's much. Kid was very selective, but Poison still sneaked a few things past him. He looks back at Kid and Kid nods, his knuckles are white on the wheel. He doesn't like it, but then neither does Poison.

The gas station is abandoned. There is nothing much left. A few old magazines Poison picks up along the way, a few bottles of water hidden behind half rotten boxes. And a body in the back. He wonders why he didn't smell it for a second and then he just kicks it for god measure. Good thing Kid isn't with him. He takes with him what he thinks might be useful and goes back to the car. Kid opens the door and Poison dumps the stuff in the backseat.

“And?”

“Empty. We should try the gas. Think you can manage?”

“What? You're too exhausted from your little adventure?”

“Yeah, just be a good kid and do what I say for once?”

Kid snorts, but drives the car closer so they can squeeze out what is left and put it into the tank. It's more than they hoped for. It will get them going for a while longer. At some point Poison knows he'll have to do more than just hope that they'll pass an abandoned gas-station. And if it weren't for Kid he wouldn't have seen it.

It was easier when the only thing he wanted was to get into fights, get drunk and fuck. Knowing Kid was at home probably pissed off to no end. Kid is still mostly pissed off at him. Seems to be his default mood and Poison really can't blame him. They're stuck. And stuck with each other.

It was different before. But what use is it to think about that?

“We're good,” Kid says, taking his place behind the wheel.

“Where are we even going?”

“Nowhere, everywhere. Pick a freaking direction for once.”

Poison gives him a sharp look. Kid looks right back. Stubborn piece of- he cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. “Left.” He half expects for Kid to drive right just because, but he doesn't.

~+~  
Three days later finds them at a club-thing, bar maybe and Poison feels the tension fall away. He knows what to do here. He knows how to charm people into buying him drinks, charm them out of their money and himself into their beds.

He never fucks in the car. The car is home and besides Kid is sleeping there most of the time, and even when Kid knows exactly what Poison is doing or whom, he isn't too keen on doing it with his baby brother in the front seat. Kid is in fact sleeping in the locked car. Exhausted beyond anything. The Am is tucked away safely a bit away, hidden between dunes and rocks.

~+~  
Poison never wondered about gender-issues. He just likes to fuck. The gender doesn't matter much to him. He likes girls, they let him get away with a lot of stuff. Things he wouldn't ever do with a guy. Sex with girls is always more tender. He likes that they like it. He would never kiss a guy's nape, lick the curve of a shoulder, cares a spine with his fingertips. He is pretty sure guys out here would give him shit for it. Sex in the zones isn't much about lingering touches, it's about getting off. Girls like to linger, even the tough once. They don't talk about it, but they let him indulge. And sometimes he misses being close to someone. He’s aware that it’s just a substitute for all the things he lost, that were taken away from him, but it gets him going so it can't be that bad.

~+~  
She runs a finger over the locket around his neck, the pale oval shape hard against his skin. “Looks like it's made for a girl. Bet it's worth a bit too.”

He catches her hand and forces it down. “What does it matter?”

She shrugs, sitting up. “I like it.”

He lights a cigarette and looks down on his chest. He likes it too. It was definitely made for a woman. Big, heavy silver and the cameo made of pale amber. No face on it. A bouquet of flowers. Summer-flowers Helena used to say smiling down on them. Poison remembers that it was the first thing he sketched. It'll be probably the last thing he'll sketch, too. That or Kid's face. He watches her put on her clothes, finishes the smoke and does the same. He doesn't even know her name, and isn't sure she told him in the first place.

“It does go with my hair,” he says and she smiles at him.

“Get out before I kill you and steal all your treasures.”

“I don't have many.”

“You have that cameo.”

“Yeah,” he answers with a sharp grin, but it isn't the most valuable thing he posses. If he has his way, no one ever gets to even touch the other one.

~+~  
Kid is awake and reading an old copy of The Sea-wolf. Kid read that book at least seventeen times already. He has a weird obsession with water. Maybe because they don't see enough of it. He doesn't look up from it when Poison opens the front door and climbs in.

“Done?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you get me something?” He still doesn't look up from the book.

“Has the girl shown up yet?”

“You know the book goes somehow downhill from there,” Kid answers and of course Poison knows. He knows because Kid told him that the first time he read it. He was eight. “Did you get me something?”

“You want cash?”

“I should get paid for this shit,” Kid replies. Monotone as ever.

Something hot and angry spikes up in Poison's guts. He wonders when Kid will fucking let it go. He throws a handful of money onto his brother and turns away. He knows Kid won't do anything except reading the book by the light of the torch. He is ready to snap at Kid for using up all the batteries for this, but he lets it go. It's not worth it. He doesn't want to fight with Kid, even if they are constantly fighting, constantly at war since Helena died.

On some days he wonders why the hell he even cares anymore. Why the hell Kid is still here, why he insists on making Poison's life hell?

He stares out of the car-window for what feels like hours until he hears Kid shift and the book fall to the ground. He's still a child. No matter what. Maybe when he's older. In a few years Poison can leave him behind. He turns around and switches the torch off, picks up the book and puts it on the console. He feels tired.

 

 **~2~**  
Poison watches as Kid washes his face and then takes off his shirt too. He throws it onto the floor that is dirty as fuck and then proceeds to strip. Poison doesn't look away, but keeps his eyes above his brother's ass. He's seen Kid naked more times than he can count when Kid was younger, but this feels different. Out here there aren't many bonds to hold on to. He can't see Kid's face, but the sun coming from the busted window of the empty house paints pretty patterns on Kid's skin and makes Poison itch for a pen, a pencil, damn even a freaking stick so he could sketch his brother's form into the sand.

“You done peeping?” Kid asks, climbing into the bathtub. The water is cold for sure, but it's so hot outside and inside too, for that matter, that it really doesn't matter.

“Told her that I won't leave you out of my freaking sight.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there,” Kid answers, something sharp and bitter in his voice and then he closes his eyes and Poison can see it in profile and looks away. Stares out of the window, it might be enough for him to just stay in the same room. “Could you keep lurking outside?”

“What, you wanna jerk off?”

“For a fact, yeah,” Kid says, his tone not giving anything away. There is no room for embarrassment anymore.

Poison gets up. “Don't be too quite,” he answers as he leaves the bathroom. It's really a wonder the pipes here are still working. Must have been built to last. Outside are three shallow graves. Marked only with stones. Poison's seen a few of them out here. People tend to go crazy a lot in these parts of the desert. Helena told them all about it when they were old enough to hear these things. He sits down on the filthy floor outside the bathroom, lights a cigarette and listens. Not for hitches of breath or whatever, but for the movement of water against the tub so he knows Kid is alright.  
The house seemed empty enough, but there is water here, maybe an underground well, so people are bound to come here. But maybe they're lucky and there's no one left who knows about it. Doesn't mean they can stay and play house.

A splash and then footsteps on the floor make him look up. Kid is standing in the door, dripping water. “Give me that,” he says, holding his hand out and Poison hands his smoke over without a word. He stares at Kid's toes. They look pretty and clean. He remembers when Kid was a baby and all his skin was pale pink and soft. He reaches out and strokes a finger over Kid's foot, from the big toe to his ankle. He watches as Kid's skin changes into goosebumps. Hears Kid exhale loudly above him. He doesn't look up. “I washed my clothes and hung them up. You can take a bath now.”

“Gonna watch my back?”

Kid takes a drag and Poison waits. “Sure.”

~+~  
He fills the tub and strips, throwing his clothes on the floor like Kid did and then climbs in. The water is cold as fuck and he shivers, but gets used to it pretty soon. He's sure Kid will be rummaging in the car to get the canisters out so they can take as much of the water with them as possible as soon as Poison is done here. If not for drinking when it gets stale, than at least for cooking and washing up, or the car. Poison would bet what he has that Kid would trade everything he has for water – so would maybe everyone far enough in the zones. They could make a bit of money with the water he supposes. His fingers close around the locket and he closes his eyes. Slides down the wall of the tub so he's covered by the water and then opens them again. There is Kid's blurry face and Poison smiles up at him. Kid grabs his hair and pulls. It hurts. It always hurt, it's like Kid never learned not to pull hair too hard. Like he wanted it to hurt. Now he probably does. Poison breaks the surface of the water with a hard gasp.

“What?”

“You took it with you,” Kid says.

“You knew I would. She's dead.”

Kid looks like he's going to punch him, his fingers tighten in Poison's candy pink hair. The colour is growing out. He'll need to redo it. Purple maybe if he can find it.

“I know I buried it with her.”

“I dug it out, Kid,” Poison answers.

“But why?”

“Because I can't let go,” he admits and it's so stupid. It's a weakness.

Kid's eyes go soft, he sighs and his fingers loosen in Poison's hair. He leans over and kisses Poison's head. “I know,” he says and lets go. Poison keeps quite. He has no fucking idea what just happened. No idea at all.

~+~  
They load up the canisters and make makeshift beds on the floor of the house. Most of the clothes are still damp, Poison figures they'll be dry tomorrow around noon and they'll be on their way again. Kid doesn't say a freaking word and that isn't new at all, so Poison sketches as his brother reads The Sea-wolf until Kid falls asleep and Poison switches the torch off. They'll need to trade a bit of the water for batteries soon.

~+~  
Poison remembers a time when he couldn't do anything wrong in his brother's eyes. Even if Helena would roll her eyes at him, he would only grin and show Kid whatever he just learned himself. He never ever wanted Kid to feel like they weren't on equal ground. They aren't and when Poison was growing up, discovering girls and guys and sex he knew that Kid wouldn't understand what Poison was doing and why and more importantly why not with him.

Now Kid is at an age that he knows all about sex, well maybe not all of it. Poison has no idea how far Kid went with people in the last year as he started to be interested in girls. Poison has no idea if Kid even cares for guys, it's not something for everybody and that's okay too. Helena used to say that people are different and that it's a good thing. Equality shouldn't mean uniformity.

He grabs the locket and closes his fingers hard around it. If she weren't dead would he still be with Kid? He wanted to go and explore the freaking world. Wanted to see if he could find Doctor Death Defying. Wanted to venture into the City. Just to see it up close. Now he hates the City with everything he has and is. Funny how one thing can change your life forever.

Funny how when they grew up they didn't have the slightest clue who Helena really was. Or their parents for that matter. The locket leaves an imprint on his palm as he lets go and it hurts. He flexes it a bit and looks over at Kid who is chatting to some girls. He's trying to get more batteries. Poison thinks they need fuel more, but he keeps his mouth shut. Kid can take care of these things. In fact after she died he was the one who did what needed to be done. Poison just couldn't. He couldn't look at her corpse back then. Couldn't look at her destroyed face and broken bones and the hole in her chest that he put there.

~+~  
There is nothing better than getting your dick sucked after a fight. His lips sting and Kid will give him a look or shit for it later when he's back in the front-seat of the Am, but right now it really doesn't matter. What matters is that the guy on his knees really knows what gets people going or Poison just lucked out and that guy knows what gets him going. Poison doesn't care particularity. He lets his head fall hard against the wall of the rest-room, tangles his hands in the guys hair and pulls him closer. There is a half choked noise, but the guy doesn't back off so Poison figures he's okay.

~+~  
Poison doesn't leave broken hearts in his wake, because he never fucks a person for a second time. He doesn't fuck guys that often anyway, because it's too much work and there are faster ways to get off. When Helena was still alive and he knew Kid was safe at home with her he sometimes got on his knees for a guy he found hot, indulged in preparing someone if there was time, but these things are over now and he doesn't miss them. Not much that is.

“You got me something?” Kid asks not looking up from the book he's reading. It's one about the English coast.

“Shouldn't you be reading books about deserts?” Poison asks.

“I don't need to read about deserts. There is sand in my underwear. I know the desert like a freaking lover. A nasty one, an ungrateful one, an undependable one.”

“I got you coffee,” Poison says and throws a packet in Kid's direction. Kid does look up then.

“Did you let someone fuck you for this?”

Poison rolls his eyes. “None of your business.”

“Party,” Kid says and he never once said 'Party' in the last year.

“No, I stole it. So whatever you had going on with that blue haired girl this morning. Forget it. We're hitting the road now.”

“I'll trade coffee for sex any time,” Kid answers, cradling the packet to his chest and inhaling the aroma. They were raised on the good stuff because Helena knew people.

“Sounds dirty.”

“You know what I mean. Sex is cheap around here. Coffee is not.”

Poison nods. He knows. “I'm driving.”

“Are you sure?” Kid asks.

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

 

 **~3~**  
Poison learned how to handle a gun when he was 10 and he was forbidden to show Kid how it works. He was forbidden to even talk about it. Helena took him out in the mornings when Kid was still asleep. He's a freaking natural when it comes to handling guns. It's a bit scary. Poison knows that Helena didn't like to show them how to shoot people, but he also knows that it was necessary.

She took Kid out when he was ten too. By then Poison could hit a moving target out of the freaking car while driving.

Kid's alright with guns, but they're not really his thing. That doesn't mean he can't take care of himself. He can and he does and he did the last year and on top of that he took care of Poison's drunken, bruised body as well.

Until Poison got a grip one night, dug out her corpse, took the locket, put it around his neck with all the sand and dirt clinging to it and made a decision to leave.

Sometimes he can still feel her paper-thin skin under his fingertips.

~+~  
Poison wakes up with the sudden realisation that it's Kid's birthday and they are on the road to somewhere, nowhere. He isn't even sure Kid has a plan for them. Maybe they should talk about the directions. They can't keep just taking turns left or right when they see a crossroad.

Kid is driving, the radio is on, but Poison can only hear static. Not unusual in these parts of the desert. The only one who is playing anything good is Doctor D anyway and no one’s heard from him for months now. Poison hopes he's okay. He suspects Helena knew him back in the days when people weren't so fucked up, weren't so divided in them and us, us and them. But maybe there wasn't ever a time where that was true. Doesn't help to dwell on it now.

He stretches and looks at the endless horizon before them. Possibilities over possibilities piling up just out of reach.

“It's your birthday,” he says, his voice going hushed and soft.

“Yeah,” Kid answers, biting his lip, not looking away from the dusty road.

“Fifteen.”

“What does it matter? Age is nothing but a number and I'm not a kid anymore since I learned how to shoot at someone while I drive a freaking car.”

“You were twelve then.” Poison remembers.

“Or did you get me a gift?”

“What would you like?”

“More coffee, but I guess that'll have to wait until we pass the next village or whatever.”  
Poison nods.

~+~  
Poison doesn't get any coffee for kid, but he finds a book about fish and takes it with him as he leaves his random hook-ups place. It's a nice place, but Poison doesn't need anything except fuel, money and coffee. Maybe condoms too. He thinks Kid will like the book. There are a lot of pictures of oceans and underwater photographs in it.

~+~  
“Here,” he says handing the book over. Kid is sitting on the hood of the Am working on the radio again. The spare one, not the one in the car.

Kid takes it and then puts it aside, the radio too. Poison knows he'll read it later. He lights a cigarette and one for Poison and hands it over. It's a small gesture. Maybe Kid is on his way to forgive Poison for all the shit he put Kid through. He seems less angry lately.

“We should find Doctor D,” Kid says.

Poison gives him a look. “Yeah?”

“Maybe he knows something.”

“What else do you want to know?” Poison asks, taking a deep drag from his cigarette. “Helena was the head of the freaking resistance before we showed up at her door all orphaned and she let her guard down and they killed her.”

“You killed her,” Kid answers sharply.

Poison balls his hand to a fist until he can feel the pain sharp against his skin and takes a violent drag of his cigarette with the other. He counts to ten and then again. “I did what I had to. I did what she told me to do.”

“It still wasn't right!”

“What in this godforsaken world is?” Poison gives back. He's pissed off. He thought one year and some down the road they're past this, but it seems now that Kid won't ever let it go. Kid keeps stubbornly quiet. “We should find Doctor D,” Poison says after a while not looking at Kid. Maybe he can leave Kid with D for a bit. A month, a year or three.

~+~  
Finding Doctor Death Defying is easier said than done, but then Poison knew it would be like this. Following every whisper and every little lead they can get their hands on. It's hard work and he's getting frustrated. Kid is too. He's talking less to Poison than he did in the last few weeks. It's getting worse instead of better, but Helena used to say that it always has to get worse to get better, but how much worse does it have to be? They already hit rock-bottom.  
This is hopeless.

“Stop thinking we're not going to find him,” Kid says sharply.

“What the hell? You don't know what I'm thinking.”

“It's written all over your face. Helena would be so disappointed.”

“She never wanted us to be part of this!”

“We were born as a part of this!” Kid shoots back.

“You were born as a part of this. I was born in the City,” Poison says, not that he can remember much of it, he was way too young back then, and bites his tongue hard until he can taste blood.

“What?”

“They left because mom was pregnant with you. The City has a thing about siblings.”

“They don't want them. I thought it was before-”

“It wasn’t.”

~+~  
One more thing for Kid to hate him for. For not coming clean about it earlier he supposes. Helena would be disappointed that he let it slip after all and it's not that Poison ever regretted to leave the City because mom was pregnant. He loved Kid before Kid was even born. He used to sit at his mother's side with his ear pressed to her belly and listened to Kid's movements inside. He used to tell Kid stories about Sandboy and Watergirl and he and mom sang to Kid together. He remembers her voice, not her face, but her voice. He doesn't think Kid does. Kid wasn't even a year old when they were left at Helena's door who wasn't all that thrilled, but took them in anyway. They were family after all. You just don't turn away from your dead sister's kids.

And here he is ready to ditch Kid as soon as they find D.

His left hand finds the locked and he lights a cigarette with the other. “Sometimes I just can't handle it,” he says into the night. “Sometimes-” he bites his lip, because it wouldn't be true. He never wishes he were an only child. He just needs to figure out who he is and who Kid is and how they can fit together again. Because there is no way in hell they can get to the way they were before, but there is the possibility to work it out, to be whole again in a different constellation.

~+~  
Eventually word gets around to D that two kids are looking for him. He is not what Poison has expected, but then he's sure Helena wasn't either.

“So, Helena's kids, hmm?” Doctor D asks and Kid nods. His eyes are not on Doctor D, but on the boy behind D. Seems Helena wasn't the only one who raised orphaned children. Poison would bet anything he has, and it isn't much, that this is not D's kid.

“You let us in or what?” Kid asks after a while. D was only staring at them.

“Why should I?” D asks, arms over his chest.

“Because she's dead and Poison doesn't tell me shit. I want some answers. Helena kept saying that ignorance is never bliss.”

D grunts and steps aside. Poison follows Kid in. Kid has a way with people. Or maybe a certain kind of people.

~+~  
Poison leaves Kid behind three days after. He doesn't tell Kid or D, but Pony, D's boy, sees him and steps stubbornly in his way.

“Move,” Poison hisses.

“You're not coming back, are you?” Pony asks. He's maybe seven, a lot younger than Kid is. Poison thinks they'll get along just peachy. “Does Kid know?”

“Yeah, Kid knows,” comes Kid's voice from around the corner and then Poison can see Kid's face emerging from the shadows.

“I'll be back,” Poison says, because he will.

“I know,” Kid answers, because after all they're family.

“Try to not blow up this place.”

Kid smiles grimly. “I'll do my best to stay on good terms with the voice of the resistance.”

“I'm taking the Am,” Poison points out the obvious.

Kid rolls his eyes. “Give me the locket,” he says, holding his hand out.  
Poison doesn't even hesitate. He watches as Kid changes the heavy silver chain to the one he's wearing around his neck made of leather and then gives the chain back to Poison. “It's heavy,” he says softly, fingering the locket around his neck.

“I'll come back,” Poison repeats, putting the silver-chain around his neck. It feels too light. He already misses the weight of the amber-locket.

Kid nods.

“Soon?” Pony asks.

Poison smiles at him. “I don't know.”

~+~  
It's strange having the Am to himself after all these months with Kid beside him on the road. But not bad, Poison thinks. Not bad at all. Different. He knows he'll get used to it. He turns the radio on and waits to hear D's voice in the bright white noise.

 

 **~4~**  
Poison parks the Trans Am behind the bar and doesn't bother to lock the doors. He is known here. People usually don't fuck with his stuff. He doesn't have much and nothing is of great value, except the car and well, the silver-chain around his neck. But he doesn't take it off. Ever.

Chibi is tending bar. He grins at her and she grins right back. She kicked his drunken ass out the first time they meet and they bounded. He likes her more than any other person in this excuse for a bar.

“Trying to get into trouble again?” she asks, setting a drink in front of him.

He gulps it down, it burns like hell, and gestures for her to pour another. “It's still early. I'll just wait and see what the wind blows in.”

Chibi shakes her head. “You only go for the pretty ones anyone.”

He leers at her. She is pretty in a weird, crazy, scary way. He would so do her. She slaps his arm.

“They go for me.”

“I like your hair,” she answers, reaching out and he meets her halfway. “Purple suits you.” She tugs a bit until he can feel her breath on his face. She is so close he could kiss her, but he doesn't. She would kick him in the balls. He just knows it.

“Thanks.” He thinks that too. She lets go of the strand she was holding on and smiles that sharp smile again.

“You're welcome.”

He turns around to look what the wind blew in, but as he has a not fucking the same person twice rule his options aren't great tonight. He itches for it. It's been too long and he knows he should move on to new exciting playgrounds, but he doesn't want to leave Chibi behind. She has no illusions about him staying. He knows she doesn't. He lights a smoke when a shadow falls over the counter and he turns slightly to look at whoever just sneaked up on him.

“And you are?” he asks, blowing smoke out.

“Pischer,” she says, smiling a wicked smile. A smile that says, you've been born way too late to catch up with me.

“I was half expecting a 'not interested',” he answers.

She laughs out loud: her head thrown back. “You're pretty and I like pretty things. Used to collect them.”

“I'm not for safekeeping.”

“You're not even safe,” she answers.

He likes her. “Pour her whatever she wants. It's on me,” he tells Chibi, and the other woman nods silently.

~+~  
He fucks her in the car. In hers and if he's honest for a second it's not really him fucking her, but her fucking him. She is as every bit as ruthless as he is and seeking pleasure only for pleasure's sake. He has the stupid urge to ask her if he can see her again. He doesn't.

She opens the car-door and lights a cigarette, her naked feet playing in the sand. She exhales and he watches her breathe. If he would let her, she would fuck him up. Badly. And the stupid thing is he does want to.

“You heading somewhere?” he asks.

She turns to look at him. Looks at him hard for a while and he just looks back into her nearly black eyes. Such a stark contrast to her pale skin and white hair. Even her nipples are a pale pink, like her lips. He's never seen a woman like Pischer. He wonders how the hell someone can even stay that pale in the freaking desert. With the sun burning down merciless at every living being.

“Yeah,” she answers eventually. He waits her out. She is clearly making a decision. “You know how to drive like the devil and handle a gun, I assume?”

He nods. “Sure.”

“And you are an enjoyable fuck,” she states.

“Gee, thanks,” he answers.

“I can take you on a ride,” she says, throwing the butt out of the window.

~+~  
He doesn't like to leave the Am behind, but he trusts Chibi with it.

“You can use it until I'm back.”

“What if you don't come back?” she asks.

He shrugs, he didn't think about it. He is not even sure yet Pischer won't leave his sorry ass on the road in three days flat, because he lost his appeal to her. “If I don't come back, let's say in a year, you're free to sell it or give it to Doctor D. Just let him know it's here.”

“You know D?”

“I met him once.”

She bites her lip, clearly mulling this over. “I'll keep it for a year in my garage and then I'll sell it to whoever the fuck pays me the most.”

He supposes it's fair. After all she let him crash at her place for weeks. “Okay. See you around.”  
She hugs him tight and brushes a kiss against his cheek so fast he nearly thinks he's imagined it.

“She'll eat you alive.”

“I know,” he answers her with a grin.

She shakes her head.

~+~  
Pischer is a silent person when she's behind the wheel. And when he's driving she's usually sleeping next to him in the passenger seat. She likes loud music and snorts at D's broadcasts. The only thing she's interested in is the traffic report. Poison still listens to D hoping for news of Kid. Sometimes he catches himself fingering the chain around his neck. The thing is a reminder. A way back home.

“You look like you're homesick, Pretty,” she says with a look.

He lets go of the chain and lights a smoke. It doesn't fool her. Nothing seems to fool her. He's stalling and she knows it. He can keep his mouth shut or tell her bullshit, but she will call him on the bullshit. And it won't be pretty.

“Sometimes I am homesick.”

“Do you even have a home to go back too, Pretty?” she asks, curiosity in her voice. She isn't often curious about stuff, or people for that matter. She is a bit like a stray cat. Not caring who gives her shelter as long as it meets her standards.

“Isn't home where the heart is?”

She laughs. “Then you're really fucked.”

He nods. He is. More than she knows. “Yeah.”

“You burned your bridges, didn't you?” It's not a real question.

He exhales smoke and pours another drink from the bottle. Their home's an abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere. Outside a sandstorm and inside her, a bottle of tequila and a pack of cigarettes. This is his life now. She grabs for the chain and pulls him closer by it. It burns on his skin. Her mouth is so close he could kiss her, but she would probably bite him for his trouble. “Not all bridges. You kept one. One way home,” she yanks and something passes behind her eyes. Too fast for him to identify it.

His fingers close around her thin wrist. She is a slender person. He can overpower her. He thinks Chibi could overpower her, but people just don't. They don't even try, like they think her core is made of steel or something.

She laughs and closes the space between their lips.

Sex with her it always more of a fight. She doesn't let go and he doesn't either. It seems like she never learned to trust anyone and he, well he is deeply fucked up and too freaking young maybe to know what the hell he is doing with a woman like her. He doesn't know exactly how old she is but sure as hell not twenty anymore. She isn't old enough to be his mother, but she may have ten years ahead of him.

She pushes him down and sits on his chest and just looks for a few minutes while he waits and pants and waits some more. He can never know with her and that is the thrill of it. She could fuck him hard now and leave him here for the wolves to find by morning. Maybe she would leave him the gun. He wouldn't count on it.

She leans down: her face hovering over his, her fingers sliding over his arms to pin them down over his head. He goes easily. He just can't help it.

“And now? Are you going to have your wicked way with me?” he asks, punctuating it with a hard trust up.

Her eyes close to slits. “Don't I always? And you just let me.”

“There might come a time I won't,” he answers.

She slides with her ass a bit down, resting over his lap and then grinds down. “Not today.”  
No, he thinks, definitely not today. His fingers curl to fists, but she doesn't let go. “Stay put,” she says and lets go of his arms, sliding down in the process, her fingernails marking his skin under his t-shirt and then she's opening his fly and he still doesn't know if she'll go down on him or just ride him or change her mind and starts knitting.

Her mouth closes around his painfully hard dick and he nearly forgets that he has to keep his hands out of her long white hair. His fingers curl to fists over his head and he lets out a moan. He can feel her smile around his dick. Her hands dig into his hips, kneading the flesh there. She likes to leave marks, likes to make sure people know who they belong to. As if he could ever forget who he belongs to.

~+~  
“I wonder if you would let me tattoo my name on your heart,” she asks, exhaling smoke. She's naked, because she doesn't bother much with clothes if she doesn't have to and the sandstorm is still raging outside. He wants to lick her again and again and again and maybe she'll let him finger her after she finishes her cigarette.

“No,” he says.

Pischer looks at him sharply. He knows she doesn't hear the word 'no' often. Not from people she deals with, not from people she fucks.

“No?”

“No. I have a thing about needles. It's nothing personal.”

“Oh, Pretty, it's every bit personal. And I wouldn't go around telling people things like that if I were you.”

She never asked his name, only the first letter and then she told him, she's going to make a name up. He supposes she just doesn't want to get attached and if she should hear he's got ghosted, she wouldn't even know it was him. Makes a certain amount of sense.

“I'm not worth the trouble,” he says.

“Yet,” she answers like she knows something he doesn't.

“I'm just a sand-rat like any other.”

“Yeah, but I fuck you, so you are so not a sand-rat like any other, Pretty. Trust me.”

“I wouldn't dream of it,” he answers and she nods.

“And good thing too.” She crushes the butt against the car-window and throws it away. “Wanna go down on me?”

He cocks his head. “Is this up for debate?”

She looks at him and then smiles. She looks like an albino shark when she does that. “Is it ever? But you can try to convince me of your idea.”

He gets up and sits down between her legs. “I was thinking about kissing your thigh to your knee and then up while I fuck you with two fingers until you beg for more.”

“Which as we know will never happen.”

“Let me try, why don't you?” He grins, nipping her nipple. She arches into it. Poison doesn't think he can make her beg with words, but body language is called language for a reason.

 

 **~5~**  
She is Bonny and he is Clyde, but with a lesser body-count. Helena taught him how to shoot, but she never killed a person and he doesn't want to do it again. One time was enough. One time was more than he could take. Lately the calls were close. It seems Pischer is less picky about that than he thought.

“They aren't people,” she says, her voice firm. She has the gun trained at him now, he doesn't think she's going to shoot him on the spot, but still.

He feels like a kid and in her eyes he maybe is, but he isn't. She doesn't know shit about him. She doesn't even know his name for fuck's sake.

“They are people. Working in the City.”

“People from the City aren't people anymore, Pretty,” she answers.

And that stings, because he was from the City, he is from the City, never mind he was raised like a sand-rat but with better coffee. Never mind a fucking founding member of the resistance raised him. He can't change where he was born.

“I'm from the City,” he gives back, crossing his arms and she rolls her eyes.

“You never took the pills, you were never a robot, a cock in the machine. You were always the person you were supposed to be. You fuck like one, you love like one, you kill like one.”

“I never-”

“Yes you did. You killed at least once and now you think you can't do it again, but when the time comes – and it will – you will do it again. And again and again. Just don't take the masks off,” she answers. She is earnest for once. Deathly earnest. She sighs and puts the gun into her holster. What the fuck is he doing here anyway? He is not a part of the resistance. He never wanted to be. He's just a punk and that should be good enough. It was enough for Helena, it would've been enough for Elena, his mom, too. Maybe he would've been a messenger for Helena. He was thinking about it, or for Doctor D.

“Do you even know what you're going to do with your life, Pretty?” she asks. She never seemed interested in his future and it makes him feel uneasy that she is now.

“Are you going to leave?” he asks back.

“Yes.”

He takes a step back. “Soon I mean.”

“Maybe. I am not for safekeeping either.”

He nods. He understands. People meet and then they leave. He isn't different. He left Kid behind. And Kid is his kin. His blood, his flesh, his way home. The chain feels heavy around his neck and he has the urge to rip it off and throw it away to be never found again. “You look like you need a drink and a good fuck.”

“Are you offering?”

“I'm paying for the drink, but you'll have to find your own amusement. I don't think it'll be a problem. You still have the looks.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “You're one to talk.”

“Get in the car.”

He does.

~+~  
They end up at a sketchy place somewhere in zone five. Pischer leaves him with a bottle of something or other and goes to attend to business. She's just like that. There's no hope for him to get into her panties tonight. She's just not in the mood. He needs to drain the tension somehow. Fucking or fighting. He really doesn't care. He'll just sit down and wait what happens.

~+~  
He has a busted lip and a guy on his knees for him and he's been in this situation before. Many, many times. He tangles his fingers in the dark hair and pulls, the guy complies by sucking harder, taking his dick deeper. He's so close, adrenalin rushing through his veins. He feels ready to come apart at the seams. He bites his lip to keep the moans in.  
His head hits the wall behind him hard when he comes. “You had your fun, Pretty. We're off,” Pischer says and he opens his eyes. The guy looks from Poison's dick to her and then to Poison, opens his mouth to say something, but Poison cuts him off.

“You heard the lady. You have to take care of that yourself.” He tucks himself in and steps over the guy to follow Pischer out of the rest-room.

“Saved your ass.”

“I'm being a dick and you know it.”

“You don't seem to care much,” she gives back.

“Well, I got my dick sucked.”

“I've never seen you suck dick,” she muses on the way to the car. It's dark and cold and she is a stark contrast to everything around her. Like a light in the desert, like something you need to follow even knowing it will lead you into an abyss.

“Because I don't get on my knees in sketchy bars for guys.”

“Ah, but for me.”

“Not in sketchy bars,” he answers.

“I bet you'll look good with your lips wrapped around a dick.”

“I look good with my lips around your fingers,” he says. “Business went well?” She is in a good mood, so it's that or, or well, he doesn't want to know if she fucked someone else while he got his dick sucked.

“As usual,” she answers, which could mean anything.

They fuck in the back-seat of the car, hard and fast and messy and she lights two cigarettes afterwards and lets him draw invisible patterns on her back with one finger while they smoke in silence. It's nice, still something at the back of his neck tells him this is not the life he's supposed to lead. He has just no idea what life he is supposed to lead.

~+~  
“Sometimes I think you're waiting to hear someone else's voice on the radio,” she observes.  
He doesn't take his eyes away from the road. The dust is orange and they are racing the night. No one wants to be at the outskirts of zone three at night. Not in the open, not like this: an easy target.

“Sometimes I do.”

“Don't tell me,” she answers.

“I wouldn't. Private things are private.”

“I taught you well, grasshopper,” she says and it triggers something inside him. The loss of Helena hits him hard again. He stops the car and looks at her. “What the hell? Still at the outskirts of zone three here.”

“I need a fucking moment,” he answers and gets out of the car. He leans against the hood and lights a cigarette. He inhales deeply keeping the smoke in too long. His lungs scream for air and he nearly coughs as he inhales again.

“We don't have time for a fucking moment, Pretty. We're a target for all kinds of scum out here. A not moving target and the sunlight dies slowly on the horizon.”

“I need to think.”

“Get inside the fucking car, Pretty. Right the fuck now or I'm leaving you here.”

He turns to look at her. She looks right back and something in her eyes- Fuck, he thinks. She wouldn't. And she realises it too, at the same moment he does. He takes a drag and flips the butt onto the sand, then he gets into the car.

~+~  
She leaves her copy of the Sea-wolf behind for him as she leaves a two days later. He's never read it. He catches a ride with a pretty girl he chats up in one of the ever present sketchy clubs in zone four.

Hitch-hiking back to Chibi's bar takes him a few days. He's hoping she's still working there. It's over a year now, so he doesn't have much hope, but he didn't have much hope to begin with.  
Kid's sixteen now, he thinks idly and wonders how his brother has been. Somehow he knows he was waiting for Kid to reach out to him, but maybe Kid waits for Poison to find his way back home.

~+~  
Chibi is still working at the bar and it's her bar now, but the car is gone. He really can't blame her. She puts a drink in front of him and tells him he can come home with her. He gulps the drink and nods a thanks.

He ends up in her bed, curled around her form, sharing body heat. The desert is cold at night and the heater is broken. Might be the only reason he's allowed in her bed.

“I sold the car to a punk kid a few weeks ago. Said he liked the spider on the hood. He has a thing about spiders.”

“Did you hear from Doctor D?” he asks in a whispers. Somehow it seems like a good idea to whisper.

“Not a word. Deathly quite.”

Poison nods against her shoulder. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”

“No problem.”

~+~  
When he wakes up he knows he needs to find D and ask him about Kid. He needs to know Kid is alright. The chain burns his skin, weighting him down and he misses the locket painfully. He misses home, he misses Kid's voice and Kid's glare and he wants to know if Kid is ready to forgive him that he killed Helena. Kid is the only one who can forgive him. He's the only one who knows what happened. And Poison, he realises, cant forgive himself for it. It doesn't matter that she was broken beyond repair and that if he would've driven her to the City, to the doctors there, that she wouldn't have been Helena after they fixed her. If he's honest he knows they wouldn't have tried or they would just to torture all the details about the resistance out of her and maybe about their parents and them too. And after that they would have killed her.  
He did the right thing, but it still feels wrong.

 

 **~6~**  
“You on your way to find D?” Chibi asks, handing him a mug with what passes for coffee these days. He sighs. Pischer always knew where to get the good stuff.

“Without a car? And besides he sure as hell isn't where I left him.”

Chibi nods. “True enough. He never stays long in one place is the word.”

“That's why reception is always shit when you aren't close to where he is, or at least in the same freaking zone.”

“You're just grumpy because the coffee is that bad.”

“It's the worst. I think I'll just take hot water with sugar.”

“We're out of sugar.”

“Kill me now,” he answers and lets his head drop on her kitchen table. Chibi takes the mug away and sighs.

“You're a drama queen and your hair needs redoing. The roots are showing.”

“Maybe I'll let it grow out.”

“I have a lovely candy pink standing on my bathroom counter. I'm sure I heard it call your name.”

He looks up, brushes his hair out of his eyes and smiles. “You are the best.”

“I know, now get your ass over to the bathroom. I can't look at the mess you've become.”

~+~  
He shakes his hair out: droplets flying everywhere and then looks into the cracked mirror. It's darker than he thought it would be.

“Oh god: you need a haircut too!” Chibi says and makes him sit down on the rim of the bathtub.

“Not too short.”

“Shut up, I know what I'm doing. Look at me. Aren't I gorgeous?”

“You are. I would do you.”

“You don't have many standards,” she teases.

“Pretty is at the top of that list. You fit the criteria.”

“I'm so flattered I'm going to swoon,” she answers, grabbing a fistful of his hair and a pair of scissors. Poison closes his eyes. He doesn't want to see the person he's becoming. He's more interested in the person he's going to be. It's easy to just let her do whatever and it tells a lot about their relationship that he even can close his eyes and let her work with sharp objects close to his throat. There aren't many people who can even stroke a finger over the pale skin there. Kid is one of those who can get away with it. Pischer kissed his neck sometimes when he managed to get her off four times in a row.

Chibi doesn't even try.

He hears her putting away the scissors and feels her fingers carding trough his hair. He reaches out and does it too. It feels really fucking short.

“What did you do?”

“It's easier to keep it clean this way,” she shrugs and he opens his eyes and turns to look at himself. A stranger is looking back. A stranger with short candy pink hair. Somehow his eyes look more green than hazel this way.

“Hmm,” she says, fingers curled around his shoulder as she's leaning forward to stare at his refection. “You look different.”

“Yeah.”

“Softer somehow.”

“Oh god! Now everyone will try to fuck with me.”

“I see, you lucked out again,” she grins.

He rolls his eyes. “You made me look pretty.”

“You always looked pretty, Poison,” she says softly and he turns to look at her profile. Her lips are shiny and wet and he knows they'll taste like honey, because she makes this weird lipbalm herself.

“Didn't hear that name in a long time,” he whispers and she turns to him. “Are you going to punch me if I kiss you now?”

“Would it be worth it?” she whispers back.

“Yeah,” he says and closes the space between their lips.

~+~  
“You need a job,” she says his third day in.

He looks up from his water with sugar and makes a face. “I need to find my car and buy it back.”

“With what money?” She wants to know. He stares at her tattoos and she snaps her fingers so he'll pay attention again.

“What?”

“With what money?”

“I have some from when I was doing business with Pischer.”

“I don't even want to know what kind of 'business' it was,” she does make the air quotes with her fingers too.

He rolls his eyes and brushes a stray very short strand behind his ear. It promptly falls back. “Fuck.”

“Stop playing around. So you have the money to buy your car back, but none to look for a room?”

“I don't want to look for a room. I want to stay here.”

She sits down and puts her face into her hands. It's framed by her hair and the colourful pictures on her arms. He wants to fuck her on the kitchen table. Right now.

“This is no hotel. I live here. I work downstairs. I could use someone to carry heavy stuff around.”

“And you thought of me?”

“I know, I know, you look like a princess, but I know you, Poison. I know what you can do. And I bet you're capable of some more awful and useful things now that you spent a year on the road with Pischer.”

“You don't like her.”

“She's alright for a crazy person with a vendetta.”

“I approve of crazy. Chaos and anarchy is all what my life is about.”

“And if you want to stay here and get your car back – the punk kid I sold it too hangs out here sometimes – it'll better be about caring around heavy stuff too.”

“Does this deal include sex? Or do we have to debate about that one separately?”

She grins. “We'll see.”

~+~  
The punk kid doesn't show up for weeks and when he shows up he tells Poison the car got stolen. Poison had already a bad day, a fucking disaster that started with cold water and no sugar and ended in this, and really didn't need to hear that. His car got stolen. The only thing he and Kid had left that belonged to their dad. The only thing that was home for a year and some. Maybe it wasn't home, maybe it was Kid who was home. His fingers tangle in the silver-chain and he pulls hard. It doesn't break, it hurts like a motherfucker though.

“I'm sorry,” the kid says and Poison grunts something that isn't 'I fucking hate the world and want it to explode'. It totally isn't.

~+~  
“Told you,” Chibi says later.

“Do you feel better now that you were right?”

She looks at him sharply. “You're a dick.”

He knows that he's being a dick to her, but he feels restless and no one heard from Doctor D in weeks. It's not unusual, but Poison worries. Fuck, he thinks, he didn't worry when he was on the road and shooting at Dracs, letting Pischer fuck him and slept curled up in the backseat of her car. He misses the smell of the desert. This here isn't the desert. This is domesticated desert. It's not the same as being out there in the zones that could kill you just because you dared to step on the sand.

“I know. Maybe that is who I'm supposed to be.”

“I don't like it,” she answers firmly.

“I need my car back or a car. I need-”

“To leave?”

“To find Kid,” he answers.

She snorts in disbelieve. “You are not searching for someone you're looking for a way out.”

“Out?”

“Yeah, out. Out of here, out of this job, out of this town, the life. Out of your own skin.”

“And can you blame me?”

“I'm not blaming you, Poison,” she says. And after a while of silence. “Card is delivering some shit tomorrow.”

“I don't like him. He talks a lot,” Poison answers.

“He has a car and he's leaving the town. Maybe you can ask about Kid and D at the swaps.”

“Fine. Talk to him for me?”

“Sure.”

 

 **~7~**  
There is something about Black Card that makes Poison's skin itch. He wishes Card would shut up for a few hours so Poison could fucking sleep.

He sighs and lights a cigarette. The radio is one, but there is only static again.

“So, I hear you know D?”

“I've seen the guy once, can't say I know him.”

“But you're looking for him.”

“Isn't everyone looking for him?”

“Yeah, punk kids, City runaways and Dracs.”

“What category are you falling in?” Poison asks, exhaling smoke out of the window. The sand is beige-yellow here.

“Neither,” Card says, something hard in his voice.

“Born and raised in the summer-haze, hmm?”

“As if that would matter,” Card answers.

It doesn't is the thing. Poison nods. Card is maybe Kid's age. Maybe a bit older, but so different from Kid like Kid is maybe from Poison. “You don't like me much, do you?”

“I don't know you.”

“Doesn't seem to stop you from not liking me.”

“You talk a lot,” Poison settles on.

“Can't help it. That's how I am.”

And Poison can understand that, he can even respect Card for being him. Annoying, chatting him.

“Just, I am really fucking tired right now,” Poison says.

“You good to drive later?”

“If I get some sleep now.”

“Sure.”

~+~  
Card it seems never sleeps. At least not more than two hours in a run. He is staring out of the window at the night sky, because there is nothing else to look at, except Poison and Poison made it clear how he feels about people staring at him.

“I've heard about you,” Card says out of the blue. He was quiet for thirty-seven minutes. Poison was counting.

“Good things only I hope,” Poison answers. The road is endless and boring as fuck. He misses Pischer, she used to be quiet while driving, but it was different. He didn't have the need to talk with her and her silence never annoyed her.

“I have no idea what good things mean by your standards.”

“I was told I don't have standards.”

“And that's a good thing too.” Card bites at his fingernail and looks at the dashboard. He seems nervous.

“What is it?” Poison asks a bit annoyed.

“Word is Pischer took you on a joyride.”

“Yeah.”

“And you're still alive.”

“She doesn't kill the people she fucks,” Poison answers, rolling his eyes.

“People tend to show up dead after spending time with her.”

“I didn't know anything about her. We met, we fucked, she stole my smokes and I left my freaking car for her. End of story.”

“I doubt it was that simple. You guys were Bonny and Clyde.”

“With a lesser body-count.”

“Maybe. Did anyone ever even do a body-count on Bonny and Clyde?”

“Yeah,” Poison answers and shuts up. Helena did.

Card raises an eyebrow at him. “You're done talking, hmm?”

“You done prying?” Poison asks with a dangerous undertone.

“Seems so.”

“There is a book in the back. You can read in silence while I drive. In silence.”

“Can we turn the radio on?”

“There is only static on.”

“It makes me feel calmer,” Card answers, reaching back for the book. “The Sea-wolf?”

“It's the only book I have. You should have brought your own.”

“I'm not complaining,” Card answers.

“Sounded like it to me.”

“You have some deep issues, P.,” Card says and Poison looks at him sharply. “Not fond of nicknames either, hmm?”

“Not really.”

~+~  
Undeniable truth is that Poison likes pretty things. He always did. Maybe that's why he got into drawing and painting in the first place. The things Helena did were always pretty. Even the resistance work she did was beautiful in a way. He can appreciate it more now than back then of course.

Card isn't pretty by any of Poison's non existent standards, but the tattoos on his skin are a freaking work of art. That makes Card a freaking work of art. A living, breathing work of art. Poison's fingers itch to run them down the dark lines on Card's already dark skin. He's smoking his third cigarette in ten minutes just to keep himself in check.

They stopped because Card said he's going crazy in the car and because there is an underground well here. Poison recognizes the old house. It looks worse than the last time he was here, but that was roughly two years ago. He remembers Kid's clean, pink toes on the filthy hardwood floor.  
Remembers Kid dripping water onto the dirt. He wonders if he can find the imprints of Kid's feet on the floor or if time washed them away. Probably the latter.

“You look like you've lost something,” Card says. He's dripping water onto the sand in front of the house. His hands stretched over his head. He's soaking up the sun, Poison realises. Stupid motherfucker. It's a thousand degrees out here.

His hair is wet and the droplets running down his shoulders and spine look so delicious Poison wants to lick them away. One by one.

Poison cocks his head and exhales smoke. “Maybe,” he says, “maybe I just found something.”  
That makes Card pay attention. He stops doing- everything and just looks right back at Poison. Poison watches him swallow, mull it over in his head, make a decision and then his arms fall to his sides and he makes the first step in Poison's direction. Poison waits counting the steps to the porch, from the porch until Card is standing in front of him.

“You're going to leave me.”

“Yeah.”

“And mess me up. Badly.”

“Yeah,” Poison says and kisses Card hard until they're both breathless. Card's fingers feel cool as they crawl under Poison's shirt. He doesn't even mind being shoved against the wood of the house. It's sun warm and rough against his back. His shirt hits the dirty floor, another deja vu. He throws his head back as Card sinks to his knees. Stares through a hole of the roof at the blue sky as Card opens the fly of his pants and mouths his dick through the soft cotton of his briefs. It feels so freaking good to have someone do this. Poison is tempted to just grab Card by the neck, his hair, anything and push him, but he doesn't. Something about this, something about this place, about them feels fragile in a way he didn't feel in a long time.

He tangles his fingers in Card's hair gently, running them over Card's head, messing him up. He likes seeing evidence of what he's done. Likes to leave marks too. Card pushes into the touch and closer. He shoves the boxers down and licks from the root to the tip in one long stripe. Poison closes his eyes and enjoys it.

Card is no blushing virgin and he is so freaking good at it, it nearly hurts. Poison is ready to beg, well, close. He never begged. At least not with words. His fingers tighten in Card's hair in warning, but Card doesn't pull away.

~+~  
Poison licks the tattoos one by one, runs his fingertips over the lines and counts the colours in his head. Card is a squirming mess under him. His face smashed into his arms, his breathing hard.

Poison would bet everything he has that he's biting his lip to keep the noises in. Which is so stupid, it's not like anyone could hear them here. They're alone. They're so alone they could be the only people on the freaking planet. But Poison isn't going to complain. He likes it that way. He licks down every vertebrate, nips it and proceeds down to the hollow over Card's ass. Poison can count on the fingers of one hand how many times he's had his tongue in another person's ass and he has no idea why he wants to do it now, but he does.

He kisses one cheek and then the other. Card's breath hitches.

“Going to make you beg.”

“I know,” Card breathes.

The first moan out of Card's mouth is like a lost melody to Poison. Something deep inside him aches, but he shoves it aside and pushes his tongue in deeper. Just that little bit, so that Card makes that breathy, wordless noise again.

~+~  
“I wonder,” Card says looking him over, from toes to head, “what makes you so special?”

“Born that way,” Poison shrugs.

Card shakes his head. “No.”

“And you know that because?”

“I know people.”

“And still you let me fuck you up. Probably beyond repair.”

“That's not about you. That's about me. I'm just messed up that way. I can see the freaking train, but I won't step aside.”

“Hell or glory, hmm?”

“Something like that,” Card answers. He grins and Poison grins back. The sun is burning down on the sand and Poison really doesn't look forward to get into the car again. It'll be hot and stuffy in there. Stale air and sweat in a too small space.

He stretches and watches Card trace the movement of his muscles. He smiles. “You want to fuck me?”

“I-” Card stops and looks into Poison's eyes. “You wouldn't let me.”

“But that wasn't the question.”

“Yeah. I want to fuck you.”

Poison sits up. It's not really cool in the house, but way better than outside. “We have to be somewhere.”

Card grabs for his clothes.”Yeah, we do.”

~+~  
They reach the Swap two days later and it's bigger than Poison remembers it from the times Helena took them with her.

“I need new dye,” Poison says and Card nods.

“Need to deliver this to a guy, meeting at the car in, let's say, two hours?”

Poison nods. That should be enough time to find some dye and ask around about the whereabouts of D.

He's watching Card leave as the kid runs into him. “Watch where you're going, fucker,” the kid says annoyed from the ground and Poison looks down. The kid is maybe ten, no way is he older and has such a dirty mouth.

“Language,” he says.

He kid glares and then his eyes go wide. “It's you!”

Poison takes a step back while the kid gets up. “Do I know you?”

“I know you, and I was right, you're a fucker.”

“Listen kid!”

“Pony the fucking fuck, what the fuck are you do-” Kid stops mind-rant and stares.

“I told you I'll find him for you,” Pony says, beaming at Kid.

Poison's mind goes blank. He can't fucking believe his luck. He was looking for Kid everywhere and here he is.

“Aren't you going to hug?” Pony asks. He sounds hopeful.

Kid crosses his arms over his chest. Poison thinks that's a no. “You're back?”

Kid doesn't formulate it like a question, but if Poison has ever heard a question in his life, this is one. A fucking big one.

“I was looking for you.”

“For D.”

“For you, Kid,” Poison answers firmly.

“You lost the car,” Kid says.

“I- it got sold and then stolen.”

“I know,” Kid grins.

“You stole it!” Poison realises.

“He's good at this shit,” Pony throws in.

“Is he, hmm?” Poison asks and smiles at Pony. Pony goes pale and then red. Fucking blushing. Unbelievable. “You're adorable!”

“I'm going to kill you,” Pony grits out between his teeth and Kid laughs. Poison didn't hear Kid laugh in years. He grabs Kid and buries his head against Kid's chest. He can feel the locket hard between them. Body-warm silver and amber. He can smell the leather of Kid's jacket and the scent underneath it, that means home.

“I missed you,” he whispers.

Kid hugs him back. His fingers curl around Poison's neck hard. It'll leave bruises, but Poison really doesn't care.

“I missed you, too.”

~end~


End file.
